


Carol on a Motorcycle (Enough Said, at least for Maria)

by queercapwriting (queergirlwriting)



Series: Where's Your Head At? [11]
Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: F/F, carol riding a motorcycle is all of our sexualities, dear god, like seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 05:00:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18161777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queergirlwriting/pseuds/queercapwriting
Summary: anonymous asked:Hey cap, I am in love with your Captain Marvel fics. They are life giving!! I was wandering if any featured a pre-movie Carol riding a motorcycle and Maria seeing her on it for the first time thinking like, damn she flies on the ground and in the air!





	Carol on a Motorcycle (Enough Said, at least for Maria)

Her first motorcycle isn’t the one she steals when she lands back on Earth.

No, her first motorcycle was years and years before.

She’s fresh out of flight school and she’s gotten herself a graduation gift. She’s been saving for years, and though the powerful machine feels incredible between her legs and under the control of her hands, the thing she’s looking forward to most is seeing Maria’s reaction to it.

So she pulls up beside her window and she revs her engine until Maria’s head appears in the window, ready to tell off whatever obnoxious white man is…

But it’s not that.

It’s not that at all.

It’s Carol, with a cheeky grin underneath her helmet, and her brown leather jacket, and a flannel tied around her waist, ready to fly back beneath her like a superhero cape when she takes off.

And the moment they make eye contact, Carol salutes, and her grin gets even wider, and she pulls away with one final rev of the engine.

Maria watches her go, jaw dropped and stomach warm, because god damn, this woman can fly just as well on the ground as she can in the air.

It’s not long - Maria had known it wouldn't be - before Carol rounds the block and pulls back up outside, letting the engine purr instead of roar this time.

“Wanna go for a ride?” she calls, her voice distorted somewhat by her helmet, but her body language unmistakably both cocky and giddy like a school kid.

She tosses Maria a helmet from the straps behind her on the bike, and Maria knows before she even gets her leg over the bike that she’s a goner.

Because Carol Danvers is sitting between her legs, her back and core strong underneath the wrap of her arms around her, her shoulders proud, her grin - she knows, even though she can’t see her from this angle - wide and wild.

She takes the long way round to get to Pancho’s, and Maria’s flown with Carol so many times, but never like this.

Always separated by metal and comms equipment and the watchful eyes of their peers.

This?

This is less dangerous by far, and there’s no pressure on them at all; but their bodies are closer and Carol’s body heat is radiating, even through that (sexy, goddamn) jacket, onto her front, pressed against Carol, perhaps a little unnecessarily close.

She wonders if Carol can feel the press of her breasts against her back.

She wonders if she’s imaging Carol leaning back slightly into her.

She wonders if the contented purring when she tentatively rubs her thumbs up and down Carol’s sides is from her friend or from the machine. Or both.

Both would be good.

She needs a stiff drink by the time they actually get to Pancho’s.

A stiff drink and a freezing cold shower.

“I’ll give you a ride any time,” Carol says as Maria forgets to close her mouth, watching her hail tumble out of her helmet.

“I’d like that,” Maria grins.

She wonders if Carol meant the innuendo the same way she did.

She sure hopes so; and the way Carol’s watching Maria watching her gives her a rather large dose of something that feels an awful lot like hope.


End file.
